Wasted by Vernon Wray

I had not even heard of this album nor its creator six months ago and I only had a passing knowledge of Link Wray, Vernon's younger but more famous brother. Link tends to feature in 'best guitarists' lists, principally due to his 1958 instrumental hit 'Rumble' (on which Vernon played alongside their other brother Doug as the Raymen). Link has also featured on two great compilations that I've played a lot over the last couple of years (Country Funk on Light In the Attic and Delta Swamp Rock on Soul Jazz Records). But this is about Vernon.

I first read about Wasted in T. Klepach's appreciation of the album on the excellent Aquarium Drunkard blog (where incidentally I also first heard about Chris Darrow's Artist Proof, another 'lost classic' which will no doubt get a post of its own at some point and I would urge anyone to search it out). I was then reminded of it again when I saw Grayson Currin, who writes for Pitchfork and others (he recently wrote a great piece on Hiss Golden Messenger for Indy Week), rate it in his 'top five'. Seemed worth digging further.

The back cover is an illustration by Rick Cole who also took the front cover photograph. If that weren't enough, he  played on the album too. The illustration depicts the Wray's "family recording studio, which had a number of temporary homes that included the family grocery store before coming to a temporary rest in a ramshackle shed on the family property in Accokeek, Maryland where it was famously dubbed Wray's Shack 3 Tracks." Klepach goes on; "[i]n the spring of ‘72 [Vernon] packed up the back wall of the recording shack and high-tailed it to Tuscon, AZ to “mellow out”. In Tuscon he rebuilt the recording studio renaming it Vernon Wray’s Record Factory after upgrading it to eight tracks from three. It was here that Vernon was able to put to tape his much mellower solo work released in two batches as “Superstar at My House” and “Wasted”. The former being released exclusively on cassette and 8-track tape, and the latter by Vermillion Records on vinyl in a run of about 400 copies sold only at shows in Tuscon. Both albums are extremely rare and prized." With his drawing Cole echoes the laid-back countrified feel of the songs within. Note too the '(+5)' in the credits after Wray's Shack 3 Tracks acknowledging the upgrade to 8-track! 

Having been reissued on vinyl by Sebastian Speaks, William Tyler's Nashville-based label, I was surprised, but grateful, to find it in Drift Records in Totnes. Wasted is a record full of soul that has a wonderful feel. Ghostcapital gets it right: it "[b]rings to mind a Waylon-type Highwayman cutting a handful of lonesome, stoned-out 70s demos with ocassional help from the likes of, say, Lee Hazlewood." For more on Vernon, see here.

Fleet Foxes by Fleet Foxes

With their full-length self-titled debut, Fleet Foxes found themselves at the top of many of 2008's 'album of the year' lists. When you look back, sometimes these lists only serve to highlight albums that fail to stand the test of time. But last year it featured well in Pitchfork's People's List, coming in 18th place in a reader-compiled poll of the 200 best albums released in the life of the website up to that point (1996-2011).

The album's cover, a reproduction of Pieter Bruegel's Netherlandish Proverbs, echoed the music inside; seemingly of another time and out of step with the prevailing trends. The back cover, with its somewhat medieval font, while nothing particularly noteworthy in itself, continues this sense of displacement.

As with other albums featured here, it is likely I first heard about the band through The Guardian's Paul Lester via his excellent New Band of the Day (have another read, its always refreshing to revisit what people thought of a band before they became the critic's darlings). Also from the Guardian, a nice piece here by Jonathan Jones on judging albums by their cover, in which he concludes, "[a]s for Fleet Foxes, the thrill of their cover is that it ignores all convention and fashion - instead of a designer image here is raw art. It is a classic, and so is the recording inside." The album artwork went on to win the Art Vinyl prize for best cover that year.

As lead singer Robin Pecknold told Drowned In Sound: "“When you first see that painting it’s very bucolic, but when you look closer there’s all this really strange stuff going on, like dudes defecating coins into the river and people on fire, people carving a live sheep, this weird dude who looks like a tree root sitting around with a dog. There’s all this really weird stuff going on. I liked that the first impression is that it’s just pretty, but then you realise that the scene is this weird chaos. I like that you can’t really take it for what it is, that you’re first impression of it is wrong.”

Postscript: A Different Way To Be

I thought it was worth posting a follow-up to the 'in praise of a grassroots approach to releasing records' post because, tellingly, those mentioned (Michael Taylor of Hiss Golden Messenger, James Jackson Toth of Wooden Wand and Brendan Greaves of the Paradise of Bachelors label) all took the time to reply back. This speaks volumes and just goes to reinforce the whole thrust of the post. It was James who got in there first and posted a lengthy response, adding some great insights into why he continues to embrace a grassroots approach. It is well worth sharing some of his reply:

...Don't wanna speak for [Michael Taylor] or [Paradise of Bachelors], but I think the sort of ethos you describe can be attributed to our shared background in punk. When I was a kid, whenever I would order a single from a band or label I liked, they would invariably send stickers, patches, letters (see my interview with HGM!), sometimes even additional records! I like the idea of continuing that tradition, especially these days, when the lure of free music is so strong. I always felt like Dischord actually appreciated the fact that I ordered records from them, and I'd like [Wooden Wand] fans to get the same feeling when they buy something directly from me. I never got a handwritten postcard from Dave Mustaine and I never get free buttons (you guys call them 'badges') when I order something from Amazon. Of course, for this to work, we need people like you, and I don't mean that in the patronizing 'we love you, Cleveland' kinda way. I'd agree that you are the definition of a 'fan' in 2013, the only kind that really matters, and if you keep checking in on us and forgive us our occasional trespasses (we all have a Landing On Water in us, you know), we'll keep showing our appreciation...

Secondly, as a result of the post I got a pretty special delivery of records from my father's record collection (see photos). These included Davy Graham's Folk, Blues & Beyond, John Fahey's Blind Joe Death, VU's White Light/White Heat, a couple of Creedence and Zeppelin and a Mississippi John Hurt. If you owned only these records it would still amount to a pretty amazing collection!

A Different Way To Be: in praise of a grassroots approach to releasing records

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

De Stijl by The White Stripes

Named after a Dutch art movement, its a stylistic homage carried through into the front and back covers, and indeed their style full stop.

In an interview with Bangsheet Jack White explains. "I'd read a lot about the (De Stijl) movement at one point and it was just my favorite art movement because it was such a simple concept. I thought it was almost the equivalent to what we try to do with our music. The most interesting thing to me though, the reason I thought De Stijl would be a good name for the album, was the idea that when the De Stijl movement had been taken so far it got so simplistic that they decided to abandon the movement in order to build it back up again from nothing. That's kind of how I felt about this album. We had wondered how simple we could get things before we would have to build it back up again. How simple we could get with people still liking what we do. And on this record we added some piano and violin and stuff, so I though it fit kind of perfectly - that structure, that building it up.

In the same way, we always wear red and white (or black) at our shows. It's kind of like our "colors". We always do everything that way to kind of keep order. And that philosophy is reflected in the De Stijl movement."

In a 2003 interview with the Guardian Keith Cameron noted that "they don't so much make a virtue of simplicity as treat it like a religion. In a sleeve note to their second album, De Stijl (named after the post-first world war modernist art movement which included among its followers Piet Mondrian and Gerrit Rietveld), Jack wrote: "When it is hard to break the rules of excess, then new rules need to be established." The De Stijl credo favoured straight lines and primary colours. The White Stripes are never seen dressed in anything other than red or white, with black accessories, and apply a strict minimalist ethos to their art, which in Jack's mind all revolves around the number three."

In the same interview White elaborates. "The first time it hit me, I was working in an upholstery shop. There was a piece of fabric over part of a couch. The guy I was working for put in three staples. You couldn't have one or two, but three was the minimum way to upholster something. And it seemed things kept revolving around that. Like, you only need to have three legs on a table. After two, three meant many, and that was it, you don't have to go any further than that: the three components of songwriting, the three chords of rock'n'roll or the blues - that always seemed to be the number."

In the liner notes the cover concept is credited to The White Stripes, noting "the album contains the designs, sculptures, and sketches of: Paul Overy, Gerrit Rietveld, Theo Van Doesburg, Georges Vantongerloo, Vilmos Huszár".

Songs for Beginners by Graham Nash

When I saw this is a secondhand record shop I was more taken by the colours and blurred image than by knowing much about the album. Turns out that Graham Nash, a well-respected photographer in his own right, took both the front and back cover photographs.

In fact, this wasn't an album I was familiar with until I read a review of a tribute album that covered of all its songs and included versions by the likes of Robin Pecknold and Bonnie "Prince" Billy. I had also picked up on the love for this album from Woods' cover of "Military Madness".

I always feel lazy relying on Wikipedia, but the entry for for "Album Cover" does contain an eclectic mix of examples when it comes to musicians creating their own artwork: "As one would expect, a number of artists and bands feature members who are, in their own right, accomplished illustrators, designers and photographers and whose talents are exhibited in the artwork they produced for their own recordings. Examples include Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin IV), Chris Mars (Replacements’ Pleased to Meet Me and others), Marilyn Manson (Lest We Forget…), Michael Stipe (REM's Accelerator), Thom Yorke (credited as "Tchocky" on misc. Radiohead records), Michael Brecker (Ringorama), Freddie Mercury (Queen I), John Entwistle (Who By Numbers), Graham Coxon (13 and most solo albums), Mike Shinoda (various Linkin Park albums), Joni Mitchell (Miles of Aisles) as well for Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young (So Far), and M.I.A. (credited variously on Elastica's The Menace, her records)."

For more examples of Graham Nash's photography visit here or his website.

Marquee Moon by Television

The iconic front cover photo was taken by the legendary and occasionally controversial Robert Mapplethorpe (who also took the photograph that appears on the cover of Patti Smith's first album, Horses), but very little information seems to exist for the back of Marquee Moon. The spiral design is credited to Billy Lobo, but I can find no more out about him beyond that. It looks almost James Bond-esque, but does perhaps echo what Pitchfork called a "shockingly economical" album with a "tightly wound web of simple guitar parts".

What the back does contain though is an example of the sort of detail music lovers delight in. It lists which of the two guitarists played each solo. 

Nick Kent wrote an infamous review for NME on its release, which is worth quoting: "Marquee Moon is an album for everyone whatever their musical creeds and/or quirks. Don’t let any other critic put you off with jive turkey terms like ‘avant-garde’ or ‘New York psycho-rock’. This music is passionate, full-blooded, dazzlingly well crafted, brilliantly conceived and totally accessible to anyone who (like myself) has been yearning for a band with the vision to break on through into new dimensions of sonic overdrive and the sheer ability to back it up. Listening to this album reminds me of the ecstatic passion I received when I first heard ‘Eight Miles High’ and ‘Happenings Ten Years Ago’ – before terms like progressive/art rock became synonymous with baulking pretensions and clumsy, crude syntheses of opposite forms."

More recently, Chris Dahlen writing for Pitchfork mirrored these sentiments: "the things that make the record so classic, that pump your blood like a breath of clean air, are the guitars. This whole record's a mash note to them. The contrast between these two essential leads is stunning: Richard Lloyd chisels notes out hard while Verlaine works with a subtle twang and a trace of space-gazing delirium. They play lines that are stately and chiming, rutting and torrential, the riff, the solo, the rare power chord, and most of all, the power note: the second pang on the riff to "Venus de Milo" lands like a barbell; the opening bars of "See No Evil" show one axe rutting the firmament while the other spirals razorwire around it.

What Matt LeMay had to say for the album's entry into Pitchfork's Top 100 Albums of the 1970s was an alternative take on the guitar parts, but was no less in awe of the end result: "Its lengthy and numerous guitar solos are individually credited in its liner notes. But at its core, Television's Marquee Moon is shockingly economical-- a tightly wound web of simple guitar parts wrapped around Tom Verlaine's straightforward and impressionistic songwriting. Taken out of context, the guitar solos on Marquee Moon aren't just unimpressive; they're downright illogical. Everyone who plays guitar will, at some point, learn the solo from "Stairway to Heaven", but it's practically impossible to sit down and actually play anything from Marquee Moon. Like The Velvet Underground before them, Television's songs focus on interplay and exploration, rather than individual melodies and chord progressions.

This, of course, is just icing on what is unquestionably the finest release from one of the most talented bands to be nurtured by the scum-soaked floors and paint-chipped walls of 1970s CBGB's. The subtle buildup of "Marquee Moon", the nervous energy of "See No Evil", and the melodic tension of "Guiding Light" are all songwriting masterstrokes, articulated perfectly by able and adventurous players. The punk scene from which Television emerged is often cited as discarding the concept of musicianship entirely. And in a sense, this is exactly what Television did with Marquee Moon, recasting virtuosity as a function of the brain, not the fingers."

It is clearly an album that moves people, which is all you can really ask.